13
Bönhase
It was perfect.
Peter contemplated the finished piece of amber on the palm of his hand. Everything about it was right. Polishing had brought out the warm golden color. Heart-shaped, with a little crease from one full curve pointing downward at the bubble just right of center, trapped there thousands of years ago. Warm, soft, and silky, the little heart seemed alive.
The final task was to drill the hole for the metal hook to hold the thin leather strip Peter had gotten from the cobbler. One day perhaps he could buy a silver chain, but for now, this would do. Besides, the supple leather would feel comfortable on the skin.
It was late. Peter stretched his back, suddenly feeling bone-tired. Quickly, he cleaned up the workroom. In the dark, he made his way up the stairs to the a
